Philip and his partner drag me towards the pit. The elders begin to argue again and I hear Delphine’s name but before I can make sense of the context, I’m inside the pit. The door swings closed behind us. The men drag me down the tunnel and pause at the fork in the path: “Which way?” asks Philip.
“The cell on the right is empty,” replies his partner. “Let’s put him in there.”
We get to the cell and the men shove me inside. It’s dank and cold. One man takes my pack from my back and they rummage through the contents. “I’ll leave him with some food and water,” says Philip.
His partner laughs harshly. “Don’t bother, he’ll be dead soon enough.”
The drop something on the ground next to me, and then the door is closed and locked. Blackness descends Iike death. I lie for a few moments on my side considering my new predicament. My cell smells dank and foul and there is a hint of something rotting or decaying. There is also the smell of urine and feces and it makes me gag.
Then I notice a narrow shaft of light falling into my cell. I follow the shaft to its source and realize that the men have inadvertently left the viewing window in the door open. The light affords me a dim view of my chamber.
I get up and walk around the small room. It’s around six cubits wide and ten cubits long. The ceiling is sloped down to the ground at the far wall. I stand in front of the oaken door and run my hand around it. The door meets the wall with no protrusions. There is no latch or a handle from my side, but this is not unexpected.
Peering through the viewing window, I can see a short way down the tunnel. On the opposite wall is a flickering candle that has almost burnt down to the holder. I wonder if anyone will replace it once it’s out. I whistle and pause, waiting for a response. There is no reply. Is my mother still here in the other cell? I call her name and listen again. It seems I am alone.
I pace the small space a few times then take a seat on the ground by the food that Philip pulled from my pack. In the dim light I make out the loaf of bread wrapped in paper. When I lift the loaf, I am surprised to find my knife and gun lying next to a thin rind of cheese. Philip must have left these for me. I’m filled with gratitude for Marissa’s father, who—moments prior, I branded a traitor.
I pick up the knife and it gives me hope. I remember how easily the lock on this door popped open when I rescued Rich and Ada. I stand and run my hand over the door, feeling for the keyhole. The shaft of light does not reach the door below the viewing window and it takes a few moments to realize there is no keyhole on this side of the door.
My only option is to push the blade between the doorjamb and the door where I guess the locking mechanism is. The gap is tight and I use all my strength to get the blade wedged inside. My knife handle now protrudes from the gap, stuck. I take hold of the viewing window in order to get a grip on the door and pull hard. The blade has done nothing.
I close my eyes and try to remember back to the night I rescued Rich and Ada. Was the lock above my waist? Was it lower? I can’t recall the details I need, no matter how hard I concentrate.
I pick up the gun and open it. There are five rounds of ammunition. I’m not yet ready to shoot my way out of here. The noise will ruin any advantage I might have by escaping quietly. I decide to work with the knife again. Painstakingly, I push and pull the blade repeatedly from between the oaken door and the doorjamb until—finally, I find a spot of greater resistance.
I take time to work the knife into the gap where the locking mechanism lies. I finally wedge the blade against the lock but it will go no further. I need something to use as a hammer. I walk around the cell looking for anything that might help.
The cell is bare and foul. There is nothing but the dirt floor and the ever-present stench of something rotting. I kick my foot along the inky blackness of the back wall and connect with something the shifts and rattles away from me. Bending down, I find a tin mug.
The mug is light in my hand but might do the trick. I line it up against the knife handle, pull back, and swing the mug forward. The sound is louder than I expected and echoes deafeningly down the passageway. I freeze. A few moments later there is the sound of people running down the passage towards me.
I curse and tug at the knife blade but it’s wedged tight. The voices are closer. I’m vaguely aware of sweat dripping down my brow and into my eye. I wipe it away with my upper arm. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do; the knife won’t come loose.
I pick up the gun from the ground and stand to the side of the door where the narrow beam of light from the viewing window does not reach. I aim the gun at the door. A face looks into the cell and blocks the shaft of light. I press myself closer to the wall and try to melt into the darkness.
“I can’t see him,” says a rough voice.
“Open the door. He’s in there. We only just locked him up. He’s probably asleep in the shadows.” It’s Marissa’s father, Philip.
A key rattles in the lock and the door swings slowly open. My knife falls to the ground from where it was stuck and the first man exclaims in surprise. Before he has time to look up, I step forward and shoot him.
The gunshot is loud and the man falls to his knees clutching his chest. He looks at me. I look back—it’s the face of death, and it steals the man’s life before my very eyes. The man falls forward and a dark red shape grows around the hole at the back of his tunic. I am mesmerized as the stain spreads. Time seems to stop. The man groans quietly and takes one final breath.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m standing over a man. I just shot him and now he’s dead. I stare at the gun in my hand and turn it over slowly. Then I look back down. I can’t tear my eyes away from his fallen body. I breathe in slowly, drawing the stale, musty air deep into my lungs. There’s something else now too, something metallic that hangs heavily in the air. It’s blood, I think to myself.
I’m jolted out of my rumination when Philip takes my arm. His eyes are wild and glistening in the candlelight: “We must go, Chris, now.” I don’t know what to say to him. So I say nothing and follow him as he runs down the passage. He waits for me at the fork.
“My mother,” I whisper urgently.
“We don’t have time,” says Philip. “They’ll be down here any moment. They must have heard that shot…” He takes my arm again but I brush him off.
“You go, no need for you to risk yourself. I need to help her.” I realize that the keys are back at my cell and turn back, covering the distance quickly. I step over the dead man—this time I don’t let myself linger—and pull the keys from the lock.
When I reach the fork, Philip is waiting for me and I am grateful. I’m breathing heavily: “Just give me a minute,” I say over my shoulder.
“Go, Chris. Go now. Please.” He gestures towards the door to the outside and there is fear on his face.
I reach my mother’s cell and call out to her as I unlock the door. At first I can’t find her in the darkness and my chest twists painfully. I call out again, more urgently: “Mother, It’s me, Chris. I’m here for you. I won’t leave without you.”
Then someone rolls over in the shadows. Her voice sounds hoarse as the whispers my name. Relief and joy flood me. She’s alive.
“Come on, we need to go.”
I help her up and she embraces me. She seems so weak. I hold her by her waist and we catch up to Philip. “Philip, thank you,” whispers my mother. She kisses him on the cheek and he takes her hand.
“Are you okay, Ellie?”
“I’ve been better.”
They smile at each other and Philip slips an arm around my mother, taking her weight easily on his big frame. I go ahead of them, holding my gun out, ready. I have only four bullets left.
“Who is out there?” I ask Philip.
“There are two other patrols. Your father was out there too before we came in to investigate the noise.”
“Do you have another gun?”
“No, but Mel had a gun. It’s back there.”
; Philip’s voice sounds odd and so much remains unspoken. My mother senses my hesitation and offers to go back to get the gun. She looks at me and I avert my gaze. I don’t want her to know the truth about how far I’ve gone. “I’ll go,” I say.
I run back to the end of the passage, to the cell on the right. It’s almost comical that I am here again; it’s like I can’t leave. I laugh manically as I stand in front of the man’s body.
His name is Mel. I reach down and take the gun from his hand.
I catch up to Philip and my mother who have moved to the door between the pit and outside. Philip has his ear to the door and when he sees me, he cracks the door open to peer cautiously outside.
“There is no one immediately outside,” he whispers. “What’s the plan here? Ellie, I don’t think you’re in much shape to run.”
My mother runs her hand over her lower back. “If it comes down to it, I need you both to go. Don’t wait for me. There is much more at stake here than my life,” says my mother.
“I won’t leave you, Mother,” I say firmly. I give her Mel’s gun. Her hand finds mine briefly in the dark.
“Philip will go first and then you, Mother. I will be behind you, covering you both. We must assume everyone we see are enemies, but Rich is out there somewhere. So is Delphine. I don’t know where they are.”
“My cover will be blown after this,” says Philip.
“I’m sorry,” says my mother.
“No, It’s okay. I’m just thinking of my family.”
It pains me that my dear friend Marissa might be at risk. “We will find them,” I say quietly. “They will be okay.”
“I must go to them as soon as we escape. The elders will be after them immediately. If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll go to them. Promise me you’ll keep them safe.”
“Yes,” I say.
“Of course,” says my mother at the same time. “We must get the others too. Our hand has been forced. We must make a move against the elders soon, maybe even tonight.”
My mother and Philip exchange a meaningful look.
Philip turns from us and opens the heavy wooden door. As it opens, the fire that continues to burn in the center of the clearing shines on his face, illuminating the deep lines around his eyes. Then he slips through the door until all I can see is his hand holding it open for my mother. She follows him. I am close behind.
I pause in the doorway, taking a few moments to scan the clearing. There is no sign of the patrols or my father, which worries me. I run after my mother and Philip, who are making their way carefully, keeping in the shadows.
A shot is fired. More shots follow. I spin around searching for the gunman. I don’t know where the shooter is.
“Run!” I shout to Philip and my mother.
Philip reaches the trees and takes cover behind a large oak. My mother is moving stiffly. She’s too slow. I catch up to her and pull her to the ground.
I look to Philip who has his gun out and is searching for the shooters. We are crawling slowly towards him. There’s another volley of bullets and we both flatten ourselves to the ground. We have no cover. There’s no where for us to go.
From behind us a familiar voice speaks. “Ellie. Chris. It’s over.” It’s my father, looming over us, his gun pointed at my back.
When I look back to Philip, Elder Spool is standing next to him, a gun aimed at his temple. There is despair on Philip’s face and I know he is thinking of his family. Spool smiles widely at me when our eyes meet.
“At least we flushed out one traitor,” calls Spool to my father.
“Father, you don’t have to do this. Please, let us go,” I say. I am wild, desperate. “We want to leave peacefully. No one needs to be hurt.”
“It’s too late for that Chris. Ellie, please stand up. It’s over now. It won’t be long until we tighten our noose around the rest of your little insurgency.”
My mother pushes herself up with a groan. My father takes her gun roughly.
“Why all the lies, Jackson?” she demands defiantly.
“I’ve never lied, Ellie. Everything we did was for the safety and security of the island. We always had the best interest of the community at front and center of every decision we have made. The divine prescriptions are clear. There is no other way.”
“You purposely kept us ignorant,” my mother hisses. “You’ve hidden and ruthlessly destroyed knowledge that could have helped us. I am a healer Jackson. But you’ve even kept medical information from me, information that could have saved lives! You betrayed me.”
“You know not of what you speak, woman,” shouts my father. “You know not of the sins committed by our ancestors before the Great Floods. You know not of the evil we fought to make this community possible. The Gods watch over us because we are humble. They watch over us because we adhere to their divine prescriptions.”
“None of it is real, Jackson. The divine prescriptions do not matter if we betray the truth.”
“Do you even believe what’s written in The Book?” I ask him. “Do you believe in the Gods?”
There’s a flicker in my father’s eyes. In that instant I know.
“Have I not given you a good life?” My father’s voice is louder now. “Have I not provided for you all?” My parents are edging closer to each other and my father’s gun has dropped to his side.
The scene unfolding between my mother and father has distracted Philip and Elder Spool. Something catches my eye behind Spool. It’s Abigail! She’s creeping slowly closer. She holds up a finger to her lips.
“You never gave us what we need. All you’ve ever cared about is your own position on the counsel of elders, about protecting your power,” I say loudly. I’m on my knees now and have hidden my gun inside the folds of my tunic. I can see Spool and Philip out of the corner of my eye.
“And what exactly did you need?” My father’s voice is low and dangerous.
At that moment, Abigail swings a heavy branch at Spool’s head. As Spool cries out in pain, I lift my gun and point it at my father.
“Don’t move,” I say, standing up and closing the gap between us. My father seems to be calculating the distance between us. The gun in his hand is pointing down. I aim my gun at his head and hold my finger ready. I will kill him if he moves.
A nervous tic I have never seen before takes control of my father’s left eye. He lets me take the gun from his hand.
“You will regret this sooner than you think,” says my father in a low voice. Then louder: “Patrol! Patrol!” My father looks around him, waiting for his supporters to storm the clearing.
I lift my arm to swing the butt of the gun at his face to quiet him, when a voice stops me. “It’s too late for them to help,” says Rich as he walks into the clearing. “You’re on your own, Father.”
He’s with Sally and her husband and they flank the two patrols that are now walking in single file with their hands tied behind their backs. Philip and Abigail join us in the center of the clearing. Abigail has her gun trained on Spool and Philip restrains my father.
“Philip,” calls one member of the patrol. “What are you doing, brother?” Suddenly everyone is looking at Philip, who sets his mouth in a hard line and refuses to look at the patrols.
“You traitor,” spits a young man standing closest to my brother. Rich doesn’t hesitate and swings his shotgun so it connects with the man’s head. My mother gasps. The young man stumbles but catches himself before falling. The blow hasn’t deterred him: “What are you doing Philip? What about the island? You’re siding with these sinners? You’re putting us all at risk.” His voice is thick with anger.
A deep silence follows. The crackling of the fire increases dramatically and a cool wind twists its way around me. I shiver. Philip remains with his back to the patrols for a few moments more. Then he slowly turns to the young man. He speaks more gently than I expected.
“I’m sorry you think I betrayed you. It’s not the case and I hope one day you come to learn the truth. Th
ere are so many secrets that these men are hiding from us all.” Philip sweeps his arm toward my father and Spool. “I’m trying to liberate us. All of us here only want to find out the truth. What good is peace when it is cloaked in lies and deception? If you truly care about this community, you will understand why we need to uncover the truth. I do not want to live a lie any longer.” Philip and the young man stare at each other until the young man looks away. I step closer to Rich.
“Delphine?” I say urgently.
“She’s okay,” says Rich. “She’s with Carl.”
“My son?” whispers Elder Spool. He searches our faces for an answer.
“Where are they? Where did they take Delphine?” I ask again.
“We’ll talk soon, Chris. Not here.” Rich looks pointedly at our father and Spool.
“Where is my son?” Spool demands, louder this time. His long black hair is disheveled.
“Philip, say it isn’t so brother. You’re mixed up with that woman from the lighthouse?” It’s the young man from the patrol again. “You don’t believe her, do you? We’ve been safe here for generations. Surely you don’t believe another flood is coming. This is blasphemy… Philip, what are you doing?”
“This is bigger than the sacrifice,” says Abigail, her eyes never straying from Spool. “It’s bigger than The Book, bigger than the divine prescriptions, than anything else you think has kept us safe. There is more out there than they’ve led you to believe. The elders are keeping us all in the dark.”
Sally steps forward. “These people who promised to lead and protect us, well, these people are deliberately keeping us ignorant, putting us all at risk,” she says.
Then the young man laughs bitterly, and he’s joined by one of the older men in the patrol. “They’re fools,” says the older man. “Don’t waste your words Donny.”
Sally shrugs her shoulders. It’s obvious to us all that there is nothing we can say that will convince them. Philip motions me to take his place guarding my father. My father doesn’t meet my eye. His jaw is set in a tight line and he stares into the forest.
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